


The French Press

by Zagzagael



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:29:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zagzagael/pseuds/Zagzagael





	The French Press

Stefan was slowly pouring boiled water over the fresh ground coffee in the French Press. The kitchen smelled of dark roasted beans and in a strange combination of sharp tartness, the lemons Elena was squeezing into a pitcher of ice water. Damon stood in the doorway; jeans slung low on his hips, t-shirt folded over his shoulder, bare-chested and still skin-damp from the shower.

“Ah. June and Ward Cleaver. At home.”

Stefan scowled and set the heavy teakettle back on the hob. “Way to make yourself sound old, brother.”

“I am old. The eldest, if you will. But, Elena knows what I’m talking about.”

She turned her beautiful face towards him, her brows knitted. “June and Warren Cleaver? No idea.”

Damon twisted his lips. “Fine, fine. What do you young people equate with boring domesticity then? Let’s see…Molly and Arthur Weasley. In the kitchen, not using magic or…whatever…” He waved a hand at both of them who were now leaning, backs against the counter, shoulder touching shoulder, staring at him.

“You know about Harry Potter?” Elena’s voice was slightly stunned.

He sneered playfully. “Who doesn’t?”

Stefan raised both brows and shook his head slowly. 

“Right.” He said dismissively and walked into the kitchen, toward them.

“Is that the vampire equivalent of blushing, Damon?” Elena purred as she pushed herself off the counter and into his arms. 

“No. It is not. There’s no embarrassment in being culturally hip.” He reached up and cupped her face, kissing her deeply. “But yeah, Caroline made me watch the movies.” Exaggerated eye roll.

Stefan smiled and took three mugs down from the cupboard. He twisted his wrist and clocked his Seiko and nodded to himself. “And you couldn’t compel that experience away?”

“Whatever,” Damon said, turning and tucking Elena under his arm. He took the proffered mug. “Why aren’t you two dressed yet?”

“Lazy Sunday, no plans. Did you have something in mind?” Stefan answered.

He wraggled his eyebrows dramatically. “Yeah, but I think I can work with the pair of silk pyjamas you’re sharing.”

Elena laughed. “Is that right?”

“How much time before it’s java time?” He kissed her again, and then pulled her head down to his shoulder, her mouth fast against his throat, looking over at Stefan. “I hate cold coffee.”

Stefan set the two mugs down on the counter and took one long stride, pressing himself up against Elena’s back. She squealed in surprise. Her voice a happy sound echoing off the kitchen ceiling. Damon’s hands reached around her and he pulled at his brother’s shoulders, urging him closer. Stefan snaked one arm out from the clinch and looked at his watch again. “Eight minutes.”

“That works for me,” Damon said, his voice catching as Elena caught a mouthful of his flesh between her teeth and bit lightly.

“Ha. I know,” Stefan said, smiling. He reached under Elena’s over-sized top and lifted the shimmering fabric above her breasts. Then he leaned forward, over Elena’s shoulder and met Damon’s mouth with his own. 

“Very funny,” Damon said between Stefan’s lips and walked the three of them backwards to the sturdy butcher block table. 

She moaned and whispered low. “Too much talking.” 

Both men nodded their agreement.

The back of Stefan’s thighs hit the edge of the table and he put one hand on the table and one arm around Elena’s waist and hoisted both of them up onto the surface. Damon moved with subtle strength between Elena’s knees and reached down to pull Stefan’s legs tight against her legs.

“Sweet,” Damon whistled through his teeth approvingly as he pressed himself home in the juncture of Elena’s thighs. 

Stefan’s hands came up and grabbed at the back of his brother’s head, pulling him forward, against Elena. He slipped his hands to Damon’s face and fed his index fingers into his ears, rewarded with a guttural growl. Damon leaned into both of them, reaching far around Elena, his fingers grabbing at Stefan’s back, further, finding the well of his spine and holding on fast. 

Damon began thrusting. Stefan hardened like steel. Elena’s eyes rolled behind her closed lids, panting and licking the length of her top lip. 

Seven and a half minutes later Stefan cleared his throat. Elena’s back was slick with sweat, Damon’s hair matted to ringlets curling over his forehead. 

“What?” Damon whined and Elena laughed softly, her voice catching in her throat as she shivered between the two vampires.

“The coffee?”


End file.
